Holding Hands
by drama fixated
Summary: POA inspired drabble. Now it's become a sort of a 'normal,' I guess, thing for us to do. As if our hands are being pulled towards each other by a magnet, yet we don't bother to do anything to stop it.
1. Hermione

Disclaimer: HP's not mine. It's JKR's and other related companies. Go bug somebody else about it.

Author's Note: This goes out to Alfonso Cuarón for making an utterly amazing movie that fitted POA perfectly, and one that inspired me to write this (weird drabble as it is). No movie's ever done that before. And this also goes out to **Romy**, **Jennifer **and **Kalie **for giving me feedback (and especially to **Kalie **for answering my questions) and being overall great people.

This is in Hermione's POV.

* * *

Somehow, it's different with you. I can't put my finger on why – either that or I'm just denying it. It's a common thing for us to hold hands; in case we needed support or just a plain reminder that we were there for each other. Always.

For me it was for support. Whenever I was surprised or shocked by something, you were conveniently there as a ready support for me to grab onto – most of the time, your arm. Now it has progressed to more than that – more than a mere grabbing of each other's arm. Yes, you did the same thing – but that was when you had to protect me. And then there was more, which I don't need to elaborate on.

Somehow, I think, it's both strange yet comfortable. It feels natural to hold onto one another, to protect the other person as much as we could. You never liked it whenever I grabbed your arm, but you were okay with it. Maybe you just weren't comfortable with it. After all, we were thirteen, an awkward and confusing and ever changing age. We were unsure of what to do; how to do things, how to react. We were unsure of everything.

For you it was different. Sometimes it was for comfort; sometimes it was to protect me. You did it without thinking; same here with me. Although we did it out of instinct, without even thinking about it, it didn't feel wrong or out of place at all. It was as if we'd been doing it our whole lives – only every year we were steadily getting used to it; you and I got more comfortable each day. It was as if we had finally matured enough to get used to it; or maybe because we had done it so much we'd become accustomed to grab each other by the arm or the hand.

There are so many examples of this that I couldn't even begin to possibly put it into words. They're countless . . there was the Grawp 'incident' when things got out of control . . and yet it prepared us for worse things to come (as unbelievable as that sounds), and then there was when you, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Ron and I went into the Department of Mysteries and instants after were attacked by Voldemort's personal army of minions. All I can remember of that day was you pulling me along with you when we were running and dodging away from the Death Eaters' attacks. And then when the Fat Lady was 'slashed' (so to speak) by Sirius . . oh, I can't even go into more now.

Only one memory stands out in my mind now, and that was when you and I were at Sirius' memorial ceremony. You were on the edge of a breakdown, although you did your best to cover it up. It wasn't any use, though, since you knew I saw through your façade. There wasn't any point in covering up your emotions around me since I knew you so well, and you knew that. You also knew that I would get it out of you sooner or later, even if you did your best to hide it. So while you still held onto your façade, you reached out and grasped my hand, holding onto it as if it was your only lifeline. Somehow, in an abstract way, it was.

Now it's become a sort of a 'normal,' I guess, thing for us to do. As if our hands are being pulled towards each other by a magnet, yet we don't bother to do anything to stop it. It's comforting to us to hold hands. Which personally I don't find anything wrong with at all.

Somehow, it's different with you. But that's why I like it.


	2. Harry

Disclaimer: HP's not mine. It's JKR's and other related companies. Go bug somebody else about it.

Author's Note: This goes out to those who asked for Harry's point of view – **LilMarlene2004**, **Spacegal** and **Ashley Potter13**. Sappier and cornier than I intended it to be, but – hope you enjoy it!

This also goes out to the one and only** Kalie – **happy anniversary, and hope you're happy with this!

- - -

I used to think that to hold hands showed cowardice, and that it was a false way of saying that two people were in love. To do that was a way of telling the world 'Here! _This_ is why we're in love, because we hold each other's hands.'

That was a sardonic and bitter way of looking at it, I know. But that was what I had thought before – now, it's different. I know the real meaning of holding hands, thanks to you.

I've never been one to show affection, much less receive it. All my life I hadn't gotten any sign that the Dursleys loved me, and I didn't expect to get any soon. I wasn't comfortable with showing and receiving affection, because I hadn't had any in my eleven years of life.

You were the first person, back when we were eleven, to give me a hug, and every year after that you tried to show, in a seemingly small way or another, that you cared. That you cared about _me_.

Whether you gave me a piece of toast for breakfast when no one else would talk to or even _look_ at me or you urged me to learn as many spells, charms, hexes and jinxes as I could to help me defeat Voldemort, you tried to show, instead of tell, that you cared about me and my well-being.

You didn't mother me; you gave me my space when I needed it, and tried to lift my spirits up when I was feeling down. You were my only true friend, besides Ron. It was all "give but no taking" with you; you freely gave but never expected anything in return.

As long as the person appreciated it, and tried to give you back something in return – or showed in some way that he cared – you were happy. "My happiness is knowing that the people I care about are happy," you once told me. "And if they are, then I'm happy, for myself and for them."

You were always unselfish; and I tried to be that, to live up to your expectations. Maybe I didn't live up to the 'hero' that everyone else saw, but I lived up to the true hero I was, in your eyes.

Maybe that was what made me start to show – outwardly – that I cared about everyone around me, including you. In slight but significant ways, I let them know that I thought about them and their welfare – either by a concerned look or making sure they weren't attacked by giant half-brothers. And I guess – no, _know_ – that I have you to thank for it.

That night at the Department of Mysteries shines prominently in my mind – when there was nothing but spells, jinxes and hexes being thrown at us, and we were a blur to the Death Eaters, trying to dodge their attacks as best as we could and answer with onslaughts of our own. I remember dragging you along with me, trying to protect you as best as I could, and still somehow manage to survive.

To you I was your support and protector, and always there for you whenever you needed me, and there was no one else you could turn to. I was someone who could _understand_ what you felt, and why you felt that way.

I was your friend . . who tried to save you from any danger and harm, and listened to you whenever you needed a listener. Your best friend, that's what I was – and what you considered me as.

Somehow, in these five years we've been going to Hogwarts, I started to show, in my own way, that I cared about you and everyone else around me – Ron, his family, Professor Lupin . . and Sirius.

You made me open up, little by little, to you and Ron . . and everyone else. And slowly, I realized that all the hand clasping and arm grabbing we had been doing for years had finally come to this – the line between friendship and love.

And we crossed that line, without even knowing it, or even _thinking_ about it. It had also made us realize that we would always be there for each other, no matter what happened. And holding your hand with my own had made that a reality.

I have to marvel now, at how far holding hands took us. It wasn't just out of comfort that we did it, or just an automatic reaction – or Merlin, even out of shock and wanting something to secure us – and make us feel safe.

Not because we were scared – something had to steady us and bring us back to Earth . . and somehow, feeling the warmth of your hand against mine, did that. It brought me back to Earth and reminded me that as long as I was alive, I had people to protect and care about me.

So it wasn't out of cowardice that we held hands – we did it because we were comfortable with it, and showed the lengths we would go to protect one another. It, in a word, showed how we loved each other – by one single gesture, and that we didn't do it to show off. Sincerity was shown every time our hands clasped together.

I used to think that to hold hands showed cowardice – but now I know that it showed trust, love and sacrifice. And whenever we hold hands now, I know we'll never let go.


End file.
